Executioner
by Puma The Lawless
Summary: One designed to kill, one designed to slaughter. The Executioner and the Damned. Riddick must join forces with the one sent to kill him in order to free himself from the world of slaughter and the end of his life. [Chapter 8 up]
1. Continuity Note

A brief note as I have gotten e-mails asking me questions about where my story fits in to the timeline of the Riddick trilogy. I've done some selective cutting and pasting of certain topics so I'll list in order of movies what parts I kept and then I'll add an explanation just so you lovely readers aren't stuck wondering what the heck is going on or what I've been smoking.

Pitch Black – Basically the entire movie happened. I haven't changed much of this as there isn't much to change that would affect my storyline. So, aliens, disciples getting eaten, a lot of people dying, etc, etc. They all happened and I'll reference them every now and again.

Dark Fury – Not a whole lot of change for this either. I have a few Merc secondary characters that were on that ship and while I don't want to tell you all this right away one of those frozen figures will be reanimating and making an appearance. Fear. Jack still killed somebody and Riddick still dropped everyone off at Helion Prime. Life is good, happy happy.

Chronicles of Riddick – This is where it gets pretty tricky as I did pretty much all of my selecting here. Here's what did happen: Everyone who died in that movie is dead, Riddick was imprisoned and did meet Thrash the hellhound (that's a bit from the book for those of you who are like 'wha?'). He escaped with the people from the prison, got his Furyan mark, went to go and get Kyra, she died he mourns. Now here's my added bits: the Necromongers ended up disbanding seeing as Riddick wasn't exactly the best leader for them in his morose state of mind, they were all eventually and hunted down by the remaining dregs of the people they had conquered, Riddick went into self exile back on the same planet he had exiled himself to before as a form of punishment for not being able to save Kyra, everything comes full circle.

Now here's where Executioner stands.

Basically it goes like this starting a few years before Pitch Black: Elite group of Mercs is like 'hey, that guy is worth a lot…lets hunt him down and get the money.' They look around and see that they don't have anything that will work so some weird creepy guy (aka the younger man) comes up with an idea and is like "yo dudes, lets get us another Furyan and teach it to kill him". Everyone thinks it's a great idea and the search begins. They find three people, an old man, a blind/mute baby, and Zasha. They take Zasha and rearrange her name so it's Fathia, which is actually her middle name. They train, they make her better, stronger, faster and then our story begins.

There you have it in laments terms. Feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have as I'm happy to answer them. And now…on with the story.


	2. Project: Executioner

"Who did you find?" The grey haired man questioned his much younger companion. The younger man smiled wryly, he knew the old man would be pleased once he heard what he had found in his routine searches. Though he had acquired the subject a few years earlier it was only now ready to be shown and deployed. The dark hall the pair walked down suddenly stopped at a heavily barricaded door.

"Is this really necessary?" The older man asked as the younger man began the tedious process of opening the door. Dialing in codes, retina scans, the works. Once the door began to slid open to younger man turned back to answer the before asked question. "If you want Project Fathia to actually work, then yes." The two disappeared past the door, the once solid metal floor replaced by grating.

The pairs' boots rang loudly against the metal grates as the walked down the hall, cells every few feet on either side of them. It was miniature prison but much unlike a Slam. After all, put so many dangerous people together and they're bound to find a way out. The hall was brightly lit as well, providing little darkness for the cells inhabitants to hide in. "So where did you find this subject?"

"Ursa Luna I believe." The younger man answered as he began the task of opening yet another heavily barricaded door. The older man nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What race is the subject?" At this the younger man smiled. He had indeed found something rare among the garbage most Slams held. What he had found had been perfect. Before he could say anything the door in front of him slid open with a hiss, a rush of cold air practically smacking him in the face.

What lay before them was a massive cage, heavily guarded and heavily reinforced with practically every strong metal imaginable. Most of the contents of the cage were in darkness except for a small patch of light directly before them. The younger man had been able to acquire some Tranq Turrets and a few Turrets as well which lined the walls above them aimed directly into the darkness.

"You didn't answer my previous question." The old man noted, taking in the layout of the entire containing room as the heavy door behind them closed. The older man could faintly hear something coming from the darkness, like something scraping against metal. The young man nodded and motioned to a guard who handed the younger man something.

"She's Furyan." He said nonchalantly, rapping his knuckles against a metal bar which sent a clang echoing throughout the darkened cell. The odd scraping noise stopped and the faint sound of footsteps began to approach them. The younger man tossed whatever it was in his hand into the small spot of light. A lithe hand suddenly snaked out and grabbed whatever it was on the ground and retreated into the darkness.

"She?" The older man questioned, trying his best to see what was actually residing in the darkness. The younger man nodded, turning to a place just beyond the small area of light. He made a motion with his hand, a smile on his face as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, She. Got a problem with that?" Came a cold voice, distinctly female yet entirely emotionless. Standing there in the light was what appeared to be a female version of the infamous Richard B. Riddick. A simple black shirt hung from her shoulders, having obviously been a man's shirt cut to female proportions. A pair of baggy dark green pants hung from her waist, suspended by a thick belt devoid of a metal buckle. She wore a simple pair of black boots, they being the only thingthat fit her perfectly. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached to just below her shoulders. A pair of black goggles covered her eyes, acting as a more stable form of sunglasses. She had to have only been about 5'2" inches.

"Be nice Fathia." The woman snorted and leaned her back against the cage wall. The numerous scars along her shoulders were obviously evident even in the dim light. The old man looked from her to the younger man with a sort of quizzical look. He was having trouble piecing the information together.

"So she's a Furyan?"

"Yes."

"Which is exactly like?"

"Yes."

"So she can?"

"Indeed."

The younger man smiled at the older man's bewilderment. In all his years as a Merc he had never come across someone who had a potential to hunt down the most wanted man. He was expecting someone huge and strong but a tiny girl, this was truly inconceivable. The older man turned to Fathia, a bit hesitant to question her. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. Too old to be a child and too young to be an adult." She explained nonchalantly, gazing at her nails in the dim light. This all seemed to be quite boring to her and the older man could see her left hand clenching and unclenching as if searching for that handle of something that wasn't there. The younger man smiled at the older man, reaching for a set of keys at his waist.

"Would you like to see her fight?"

The old man only nodded. The younger man began the task of disengaging every lock on the cage while Fathia continued to remain nonchalant. The old man couldn't help but feel the twinge of fear as the younger man began to open the cage. If he what he said was really true she would take any chance she got to escape and to kill. At this Fathia turned to the older man, a wry smile on her face. A collar was held in her left hand, wherever it came from she wasn't telling. As she pulled the leather object around her neck and tightened it she spoke, her voice mocking the old Merc.

"No need to worry old man, I'm not here to hurt you. After all, what can a little girl like me do against a Merc as experienced as yourself?"

The younger man had finished opening the door but before he let Fathia out he stopped and stared at Fathia. "You've forgotten something." Fathia rolled her eyes, or at least gave the impression of rolling her eyes before disappearing into the darkness for a moment. She returned within several heartbeats, tightening leather shackles around her wrists. Though the shackles weren't attached together the older man could see that there were several shocking plates beneath the shackles and collar, just in case she needed reprimanding.

With a heave the younger man pulled open Fathia's door, causing the guards to tense and the Turrets above to take aim. Fathia calmly exited the enclosure, hands folded behind her back. As the huge door leading out was opened their arrival was greeted by red lights flashing on and off and a high pitched siren that everyone know who was out of their cage.

Fathia was marched down the hall, flanked by guards all around. The younger man sent one of the guards to go and fetch one of the convicts, some piece of scum that wasn't worth enough. Turning sharply she was lead down a flight of stairs into a small holding chamber where chains were attached to her shackles, collar, and belt. The room was vacated and she was locked in. The little room was actually an elevator, or, lift rather that would ascend Fathia into the fighting pit.

Fathia was not given any weapons except for a knife that was about the size of her hand. This she held firmly in her right hand despite the fact that she was actually left handed, well...ambidextrous. The chains were just a precaution; they would be loosened once she was above ground and the fight started, though she would still be on a line. No one wanted her fully loose; after all, no one really knew what she was capable of.

The older man and the younger man stood behind the protective barrier that separated them from the combatants. A mass murderer had been chosen as Fathia's opponent and currently he was armed to the teeth. A pair of brass knuckles adorned each hand while various knives hung from his belt, at the moment he had a large blade in his hand, about the size of his forearm. In other words, he was much better off than Fathia.

The lift under Fathia's feet shuddered and began its ascent to the pit above. Fathia calmly looked at her nails as the glaring lights above hit her square on in the face. The man on the other end of the pit was waiting for her to make a move but before either of them could start a voice rang out into the pit.

"Fathia, take your goggles off." She snorted at the younger man's voice and reached up to comply. The goggles were placed in a pocket of her pants as she took the time to let her eyes adjust. Despite the fact that she had been operated on so that the light wouldn't affect her as much the shine-job had still been stronger. Squinting she found her target by smell alone. He was sweating like a pig; it was hard to miss him. Standing there calmly she felt the chains go slack and break away. Fathia was ready for the fight.

The older man looked over Fathia's extensive file. So many operations and so many enhancements, he was surprised that she wasn't a weak shivering mess. "So you had a shine-job done on her." He said the younger man while gazing down at the fight below. Fathia was toying with the man, letting him get perilously close to her.

"Yeah, we didn't want him to have any advantage against her. We even had some light sensors placed just to the side of both eyes so that she would be able to see in light as well. Though they didn't work to their maximum capacity, she can still see better than him in the light." The younger man explained nonchalantly as he watched the fight. It obviously wasn't hard for Fathia to kill the man, she was just bored.

Fathia danced away from the man, laughing at his futile attempts to injure her. She was becoming bored. He wasn't much of a challenge and the faster she got this done the faster she could finish her real objective. The man lunged at her and that's when she made her move.

He was bent low so jumping over him was quite simple. Whirling around she caught him by the belt loop and yanked him back, her knife digging into the sweet spot at the back of his neck. Blood trickled down the blade and onto her hand. Shoving the now motionless body away Fathia gazed at the blood on her hand, smiling as it began to trail down her forearm. She was only just able to pull her attention away when the same voice reached out to her.

"Well done Fathia. Just stay there and we'll come and get you. It's time for you to do your job." Fathia only nodded, going back to her fascination with the blood on her hand and blade. It had a metallic smell to it which she never grew bored of. This was truly one of the better parts of any creature.

The old man nodded, thoroughly impressed with what he had seen. Placing the file on a small table he turned to the young man. "So you're sending her out tonight?" The young man shrugged, watching as a group of guard went to collect Fathia from the ring.

"Will she be able to do what you say she can?" The older man questioned, slightly amused as he watched the guards try to pull Fathia away from the bleeding body. She was completely fixated on the pool of blood growing around the man

"That and more."

"Why do you say that?"

"She was born to do this."

"Meaning?"

"Richard B. Riddick is going to be taken down by family."

"Family?! That means..."

"Yes, he'll be killed by Fathia Z. Riddick."

"But there are no other Riddick's in existence. She's obviously not of the same bloodline."

"He doesn't know that, now does he?"

The old man couldn't help but laugh out loud.


	3. Planet UV

Quick Author's note: Thankies much for thr reviewness. Anyways, quick explanation of Fathia's point in the story. Obviously to kill Riddick and various other such things. She was made to be better than him in pretty much everything, but the adjustments are more of a detriment to her than anything else. Indeed. Well, enjoy this next chapter even if it's not totally correct with the Riddick universe.

* * *

The temperature had dropped to well below zero. It was cold. Hell, it was always fucking cold on planet UV. It was just a big planet of snow and ice and those damn Urzos. Riddick was getting sick of it. He had convinced the last Merc to leave because he had slaughtered the others he had been with. The man had been happy to comply with Riddick's wishes. Too bad he hadn't killed him too. Would have been able to get of the planet that way.

Riddick mused over this as he sharpened the knife in his hand. He had been able to rid his area of Urzos but it was only a matter of time before the shaggy beasts would show up again. They weren't much use for food but their hides would protect him against the cold. The hides wore out surprisingly quickly, but Riddick had stock piled enough to last him for some time.

Despite the fact that he was on his own he had found what he wanted. Solitude. No more fighting or killing for him, for now anyways. He hadn't wished to rejoin the human race, or any other race for that matter. He had wanted to live alone until the end of his days. He knew that it probably wasn't possible. That last Merc had probably told every other Merc he knew that he had found Riddick on planet UV. Riddick was expecting someone to arrive within the next few weeks. It was inevitable.

"Left side of the spine, fourth lumbar down." He said to himself, gazing at the newly sharpened blade in the firelight. A smile crept across his face as he spoke. He couldn't help himself sometimes. Laughing softly he placed the weapon back up on the wall. Despite the fact he had lost some people who he had become quite close to her was doing just fine on his own. The tragedy of their deaths had sent him back to his hatred of the human race and back into solitude.

Fucking dark planet, fucking Mercs! Kicking a small patch of dirt Riddick clenched his fists, the strain reaching up to his elbows. He had to learn to control his anger but it was so damn hard! Fists shaking with rage Riddick headed for the cave entrance. He needed to cool off and there was no better way but to go out into below zero temperatures. The cold bit into Riddick's skin but he didn't mind or notice for that matter.

He was in his trademark tank and pants which were beginning to frost over from the thin layer of sweat he worked up will inside the warm cave. Any sane person would have never been out in this weather but then again Riddick wasn't exactly the sanest person in the galaxy. Laughing at his own thoughts he looked up to the sky, removing his goggles. The snow made everything brighter even with the dim sun everything was reflected at least ten times more so than normal. It was painful to the eyes so Riddick slid his goggles back down.

The cold was just now getting to him so he turned about totally unaware that eyes had been on him the whole time. The familiar tingle along the back of his neck alerted him to such but he kept on walking back towards the cave entrance. Whoever it was wouldn't follow him. Enough information had been spread around about him to alert even the most green of Mercs to never follow him into an enclosed area. Running a hand along his head he found that his hair had grown a little. That could be fixed quite easily. Disappearing back into the sanctity of his cave he left the cold behind, the thin sheet of ice clinging to his body soon melting away.

The tingle at the back of his neck went away as soon as he rounded a dark corner. He had been residing on UV for almost a year now and it felt more like home than any place else. No one here to idolize him or pester him with stupid notions of God or Allah or whoever. He was left to himself which he found to be quite comforting. His only companions being the voices in his head which were always urging him to kill something or someone but he found that now it was much easier to repress them.

Sitting down beside the ever burning fire he grabbed a bucket from nearby where so old axle grease was always stored. Withdrawing his signature knife he stabbed it into the ground in front of him he smeared the grease along his head, keeping his goggles on as a guide. As he had done so many times before he shaved his head clean with his knife; the knife that had taken so many lives before was nothing but a personal grooming implement.

As he scraped off the grease into the bucket he heard the faint sounds of footsteps but gazing into the darkened entrance showed him nothing. He must be going mad by now. Almost a year alone would do that to anyone. Calmly resuming his shaving he wiped the remaining grease of with the dull edge of the knife and scraped it back into the bucket. The grease would keep forever and could be reused over and over again. He was set for the long haul.

He removed his goggles with a sigh, still aware of the faint footstep sound that seemed to be coming closer. It was probably one of the Long Tooth Cats that inhabited the planet out stalking something or other. Shoving the bucket away he receded into a dark corner of the cave where his makeshift bed was. It was kind of like a hammock made from a huge Urzo pelt that had been tacked to the walls. It had been reinforced in certain places with Long Tooth Cat pelts so that its integrity would last much longer than.

Sitting down at the edge of this hammock he sighed and rubbed his temples. Riddick couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. What for? He didn't even know. He 't explain it. Folding his arms behind his head he lay back and stared up at the rock above him. The footsteps had disappeared but he could hear their faint retreat off in the distance.

At this Riddick slipped into dreamless sleep as he had done ever since he was a young boy. One eye was always kept open and he never shut down entirely, just enough so that he could watch for signs of an attack and regain his strength. He could go for long amounts of time without sleep but here, well, all he really had to do was sleep.


	4. Light Sensors

Fathia sat calmly at the ship's controls. It had a preset course so there really wasn't much she could do but kick back and look at the stars. The Mercs had provided her with plenty of weapons. Knives and daggers of all sorts along with a few firearms thrown in for good measure. They had even provided her with plenty of tranquilizers just in case she needed to bring Riddick down that way. All in all she was armed to the teeth and beyond ready for the task that lay ahead of her. Someone had been stationed where Riddick was to keep an eye on him so she would be briefed once she got there.

It was still another week's travel and Fathia was quite impatient at times. She spent most of her waking hours reading over Riddick's many files or looking over accounts from witnesses. Blood everywhere seemed to be the most popular phrase among them. Fathia couldn't help but smile at this. She had to admit that the guy had style. Every now and then she would be interrupted but some broadcast from the younger Merc. This was one of those times.

The little blinking green light turned on, signaling that she had an incoming broadcast. Sighing she flicked the switch that brought the broadcast up onto one of the many screens before her. Fathia kicked back in her seat and waited for the young Merc to begin speaking. He looked oddly nervous today he usually being a cocky bastard about something or other.

"Fathia, we seem to have a bit of a problem. According to our stationed man Riddick knows there's something going on. He says he got too close one day and now he knows he's there. He'll be orbiting the planet until you arrive and then you can deal with him."

Fathia nodded, placing her boots up on the console nonchalantly, arms folded behind her head. She tilted her head to the side with a slight smirk her eyes reflecting the blue of screen in front of her. "You know I hate that name. Call me by my real name instead of that alias you made up for me."

The young man scratched the back of his head and looked around nervously as if he weren't even supposed to be broadcasting to her. "Fine Fathia. Your real name is Zasha F. Dae. Are you happy?"

At this Zasha laughed her cold emotionless laugh which set the young Merc on edge. He was proud of having prepared someone so well but he was still wary of the Furyan. She had that insatiable need for the blood that would put anyone on edge.

"Yes my friend, I am happy. Now, do explain why you're so edgy today." Zasha said, folding her arms behind her head and settling farther into her seat. The young Merc looked down at a keyboard and typed in a few codes which caused reports to pop up on other screens. "According to our planted man Riddick knows that he's being watched. We're not sure how long he'll stick around so we want you to double your speed."

Zasha rolled her eyes and reached for the control panel, lifting her goggles so it was easier to see. The light sensors beside her eyes immediately went into action, dimming her vision enough so that she could see clearly. Just as Zasha finished resetting the fuel output she looked up only to be blinded by a sun rising over a nearby planet. Immediately the light sensors tried to adjust to the intense light but they weren't made to go that high.

Zasha swore as she clapped her hand over her eyes. The light sensors had shorted out, sending an electrical shock through her system. This was quite a common occurrence and despite her complaints the Mercs had refused to remove them. Her eyes watered as she rubbed them furiously, swearing all the while.

"God damnit! I told you these things wouldn't help at all. They're causing more pain than they're worth." Zasha mumbled furiously, blinking hard to revive her eyes from the sudden shock. The young Merc smirked and chuckled slightly, shaking his head. He had expected something like this and it always brought him great joy when he saw his project in pain. After all, she had to know her place.

"It's only a little pain Zasha love. A mighty Furyan such as yourself should be able to handle that." Zasha calmly flipped him off before shutting down the transmission. Swearing softly she rubbed at her eyes again. She knew there was a way to change the light sensors into a sort of cloaking device; make her eyes look normal instead of the empty blackness they held. The only problem was that she would have to perform a complicated incision next to her eye and without the aide of another it would be a difficult task.

Pulling her goggles back on Zasha starred up at the ceiling of her craft, folding her arms loosely across her chest. True, Fathia was not her first name but was actually her middle name. From what she had been told it meant 'Victory' but she had encountered little victory in her life. Her first name, Zasha, was a derivative of Alexandra, which usually meant 'protector of mankind'. So, apparently she was supposed to be the 'Victorious Protector of Mankind'. Like that would ever happen.

The last name Dea came from her father, or rather, her father figure. Zasha had never known her biological parents but she wasn't too torn up about it. Her father had done a good job of raising her when she was a child and he was the only person she loved and trusted. Sure, he was the Warden at Ursa Luna Maximum Security Slam, but he was a good man nonetheless. Well, to her anyways. He was notoriously cruel to the inmates, but then again all Wardens were.

She still kept in contact with him, usually on a two week basis. He was still a fairly young man, only about 42 or so. He had raised Zasha from the age of 6 months to seventeen when he was forced to relinquish her to the Mercs. He had made sure Zasha was well educated even if he wasn't the best teacher in the world. He had also made sure that she knew how to defend herself and just so that she was a well rounded person he had forced her to play the piano. No one besides him knew that and no one knew that Zasha actually had a very beautiful singing voice. But, no one can be a merciless killer and a musician at the same time. It was one of the other and Zasha had found the job of slaughter much more satisfying.

With the increase in fuel output it would take Zasha just under thirteen hours to reach her destination instead of the normal two and a half days. The ship would be pushed to its limits and she'd be critically low on fuel by the time she reached her destination, but her contact there would have enough to support her needs.


	5. Fathia vs Riddick: Round 1

"He lives in a cave just beyond this rise." Fathia nodded, gazing through the sight of her long range sniper rifle. The young man went by the name of Greg and he was a green Merc. The young man could have only been twenty years in age and he seemed overly jumpy around Fathia. He was bundled up against the cold while Fathia lay calmly on her stomach in her normal clothing.

"Um, Ma'am?" Greg questioned, unsure of how to address to the woman before him. Fathia didn't pull her attention away from the sight but she laughed softly at the young man's nervous question. He lay beside her in the snow, visibly shaking, not from cold though.

"You don't have to call me Ma'am. Call me…Executioner."

"Executioner, Ma'am?"

"Yeah, I've always liked that name. One who puts a condemned person to death. Has a certain irony about it don't you think?" Fathia explained, glancing up to smile coldly at the Merc. He smiled back weakly before pressing the binoculars back to his eyes and training his gaze on the same spot that Fathia was watching. There was a brief moment of silence before Fathia spoke, pulling her gaze away from the rifle sight.

"You really are new aren't you? Don't stare directly at one spot while someone else has it covered. Look around the area for any signs of movement. It'll provide you with a wider range of vision and decrease your chances of being ambushed." She explained to the young Merc while moving his binoculars to a different position. Greg could only nod as he swallowed hard. In his mind he had just escaped the wrath of someone he didn't want to annoy. "So tell me what you know."

Greg took a moment to remember all of the information he had gathered over the past few weeks. "He doesn't go out as much as he used to. He'll appear outside every now and then but not for long periods of time like he used to. Sometimes he'll come back with the carcass of some beast but he's only gone for about an hour then. I know he doesn't have any firearms on him, just primitive weapons that do stand a chance against real weapons." He added, trying to curry Fathia's favor.

"Christ you are green! Lesson number two: a primitive weapon in the right hands can do as much damage as any weapon we have. Riddick's favorite weapon is the shiv, which is just about as primitive as it gets. Remember that."

Greg winced at Fathia's harsh tone but he pressed onwards with his questions whilst continuing his survey of the land. "Umm, Executioner? Why does he use such weapons?" At this a smile crept across Fathia's face. She had always been amused with Riddick's life history, it being some what like her own. Greg felt a twinge of fear; what was that look for?

"Riddick doesn't trust humans therefore he uses the simplest weapons just to spite them. Or so I've been told. Something to do with being in a slam a majority of his life or some such." Greg nodded as he moved his gaze to a different location much closer to them.

A grey hulking beast was slouching its way towards their general area. Greg's body automatically stiffened as he hastily tapped Fathia on the shoulder, trying his best to shy away from the cliff edge. This was the one place he did not want to be; stuck between a rock and a hard place. Fathia turned her gaze to him, reading his face like a book. He offered her the binoculars and she took a quick glance at the figure, eyes shining behind her goggles. So this was her target.

"He's a murderer." Greg hissed as he watched the figure intently. He had some sort of connection to the man that Fathia didn't know about. Apparently Greg had lost a loved one to Riddick and he had jumped at the chance to be there when he was killed. Personal revenge was oh so amusing at times. Fathia eyed the young man, pushing her goggles up so that her colorless eyes could be seen. The light sensors planted on either side of her eyes immediately flicked on and adjusted her vision to the point where she could see normally.

"Little word of advice here kid. To be loved is to be fortunate, but to be hated is to achieve distinction. And it matters not what you do, as long as you're the best one doing it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a murderer to murder."

Before Greg could say a thing Fathia had disappeared to her ship that had been carefully hidden within a snowdrift where she pulled on a second belt that held her weapons. Two regular knives were in their sheaths that were sewn into her pants, both about a hand span long not including the hilt. On her belt were various other knives varying in size. Her two most deadly were coated with a paralyzing substance that attacked the body through the bloodstream and sent it into a cryo-like state of sleep. Some of the other knives held burning agents that would melt the skin. A few darts were placed along her belt as well, each containing a tranquillizer of the same strength. It was the same stuff Fathia used as painkillers, but to someone with a low immunity they could be brought down fast.

Pulling her goggles back over her eyes she made sure they were secure before exiting her ship. A soft meow stopped her in her tracks and she turned around to smile at the little cat sitting calmly on a box. "No worries Tika, I'll be back soon enough." She said, patting the tabby cat on the head before exiting the ship, the door sealing shut behind her. Tika hopped up onto the pilot's seat and then onto the control board. Sitting there calmly she flicked her tail around her paws and watched as her Fathia made her way into the snow.

"I'd suggest leaving." Fathia hissed to Greg as she passed by him, grabbing up the shield she had used on the rifle. It was actually a vest that allowed her to blend in with her surroundings. Made of a heavy duty fleece material covered by ballistic grade nylon it acted as a very effective insulation against the biting cold. Its color was made to blend in with her surroundings, catching light like snow and ice would. After all, black sticks out like a sore thumb against snow. Her gloves were made of a similar material, the palm and fingers being covered with neoprene pads so that she wouldn't lose her grip on her knives. Greg was about to say something to her but he found himself alone in the snow drift. Taking Fathia's advice he grabbed up the rifle and made a beeline for his ship which wasn't too far away. On second thought he returned to the lookout spot, he wanted to see how this fight would turn out.

Riddick was still in his same position, having sensed something amiss. The tingle on his neck was back and he was tensed for everything and anything. He had caught a hint of movement just a moment before and that had put him on edge. He knew that he had been watched by someone for quite some time, but that person was no where near daring enough to get this close. Dropping his heavy garments he disappeared into the shadow of a snow overhang, pulling his goggles over his head as he did. Riddick remained in hiding for some time, the cold barely touching the bare skin on his arms as he was more intent on what would appear soon enough.

Fathia had dug her booted heels into the ice cliff just above where Riddick had chosen to lay in wait. Her two knives were stuck into the ice as well so that she was hunched forward, her position more like that of a spider than anything else. She was calculating her weight against the weight of the overhang. If she hit it just right she'd get her desired outcome. Slowly adjusting her weight she paused, ears suddenly picking up the faint sound of movement. It was now or never.

Withdrawing her knives she quickly sheathed them before dropping like a rock onto the ledge. The snow collapsed with a resounding thud and immediately Fathia was up and away from the wreckage, a knife in her hand. She crouched for a moment, waiting for the slightest sign of movement from the man trapped beneath the snow and she was fairly surprised when none came after several long moments. Fathia allowed herself to rise from her crouched position into a much more vulnerable one. She was too perplexed to really care about her stance.

Just then she heard the familiar soft crunch of snow that any normal human wouldn't have picked up. Whirling around she brought her knife up just in time to block a savage swing from a sharpened shiv. Her foot slid a little but she remained solid as she pulled back her knife, holding the sharpened object defensively. Riddick brushed the few remaining flecks of snow from his goggles, taking his time to observe this new assailant. He was surprised to see that she wore similar goggles as him and he assumed that she had had a similar operation performed upon her eyes. That meant she would be useless without the dimming properties of the goggles.

"I know why you're here." He said in his deep almost gravely voice. Fathia didn't seem surprised that he had spoke and Riddick read that well. She was trying to show as little emotion as possible. She probably knew that he thrived off of fear. Yet, he had that odd feeling that this girl knew no such thing as fear. Before he could comment further he ducked away as a knife whistled past his face, nearly catching him on the cheek. Needless to say he was surprised at how fast and aggressive she was as he ducked away from another knife thrust, bringing his shiv around to catch her in the leg.

No such thing happened though as a steel-toed boot dug itself into his side from a vicious kick. Riddick backed away for a moment to catch his breath, noting that the girl was practically twitching from the amount of energy she had expended. Her empty left hand was clenching and unclenching as if searching for something that wasn't there. A small trickle a blood had run down her cheek from Riddick's first assault but besides that she seemed unscathed as steam rose from her breath.

"Then you should know my name." Fathia hissed, swiping the back of her hand across her cheek to clear away the blood. She could see that she had caused little damage to the beast of a man before her. He was indeed a worthy opponent, having moved away just in time so as not to be buried beneath the snow ledge and then removing himself from Fathia's range of sight. He was very worthy indeed.

"Can't say I do know."

"It's Executioner."

"How fitting."

"I thought so too."


	6. Fathia vs Riddick: Round 2

"So how do those things work?" Riddick questioned, indicating Fathia's light sensors. The damn things had gone off during the fight, ultimately bringing about her loss. Ah well, life went on. She tapped the little things on either side of her eyes, hunched close to the little fire that Riddick always had going. "My light sensors? It depends on what function you're talking about." Pushing her goggles down they hung loosely about her neck. A sign of self assurance, little smart ass. "Just give me the down and dirty."

Fathia found the little knob on the left sensor and gently prodding it along she could feel it move beneath her skin. Always a creepy feeling, like having bugs crawling in your eyes. "Got a shine job from someone my father knew. Had these put in so I could pass off as a normal person." With a tiny click, barely audible to Fathia herself, the sensors went into action. Immediately a hologram projected across her eye, connecting with an anchor on the inside of her cornea. The resulting effect was the illusion of having blue eyes while her vision was dimmed to the normal 20/20. Her right eye remained the same, a blank, and pupil less stare. "Simple cloaking device. Renders my vision to a normal level and disguises the shine job. I can only see in black and white though, but colors are easy enough to figure out once I get the hang of it." Turning the little knob once more her left eye resumed its normal state.

What would these Mercs come up with next? Light sensors and a cloaking mechanism. Obviously an attempt to play on his weakness; which, at the moment, had failed. Why the hell had he let her live in the first place? Riddick ran a hand along his shaven pate, having just recently cleaned himself hardly stubble was growing in. The Merc who had been watching them, saw the fall, he saw both of them disappear into the depths of the snow rifts. And since little Fathia here hadn't returned he must have assumed they were both dead. Riddick didn't know what to think of this. It was a good thing on his part but if this girl was such a prized Merc weapon they'd come looking for her…eventually.

"What are you going to do with me?" The question slashed through Riddick's thoughts. It wasn't a tentative, fearful question. It was more of a…casual question really. Kind of like 'How's the weather' or 'What time is it?' Riddick shrugged and adjusted his goggles. "I don't even know why you're alive in the first place." A thought suddenly struck Riddick and he leapt forward, a blade pressed up against Fathia's neck as she was pinned down by his weight. "Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't just kill you now?" He snarled. But his intended outcome never came. No fear shown in her eyes; no fear of him, or for her life. Nothing.

A light tapping caught his attention as Fathia smirked at him. In the time he had taken to cross to her she had drawn a blade on him and right now it was the only thing keeping from crushing her. The metal object tapped lightly against his stomach near several important organs that he would have liked to keep intact. "That good enough?" Riddick backed off and Fathia sheathed her knife into her belt. The two sat starring one another down for quite a while as the day rolled on.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" A little tactless and not his style but Riddick had to know and if that meant being blunt than so be it. Fathia eyed him for some time, weighing her choices for an answer. Drawing a knife she began to pick at her nails with the blade, seemingly uninterested.

"I'm not afraid to die I guess."

"Bullshit."

"Test me if you want."

The pair moved as one as Riddick rose to attack and Fathia rose to defend. The two circled about the little cave before Riddick drove her back out the way they had come. The battle continued on in the dark of night, snow flying as they fought like any trained veteran would. Blood leaked onto to snow, who's it was an unanswered question. Blades caught what little light there still was and every now and then the shifting of feet would be punctuated with either the tearing of clothing or a pained grunt or the sound of a fist or foot meeting flesh.

Fathia must have lost track of her position because suddenly she slipped and her foot met nothing but air. The sensation of falling backwards caught her body and just as she was about to lose control a strong hand grabbed her forearm. In reaction her own, much smaller hand, grabbed onto Riddick's forearm as he held her over a cliff of undetermined height. He held her out far enough that her other hand could not reach the cliff face and her booted feet would prove useless against the smooth surface.

"Tell me you're not afraid to die."

Fathia shoved her goggles down, the purple tinted vision she had been cursed with kicking into affect. She could make out Riddick's face and judging by his expression this was definitely a life and death situation, not a simple game.

"I'm not afraid to die."

Riddick let go of her forearm and Fathia dropped a few inches before he grabbed her by the hand. Her gloves were rough against his hand but even beneath the thick material he could feel her grip. It wasn't the life clinging grip of one who's about to die but rather the firm grip one would use to give a handshake. If he let go she would fall. Fathia dangled rather helplessly there. In truth it really wouldn't matter if he dropped her or not. If she died she died. If she lived then more work for her. Easier to just die and give up.

Riddick mentally kicked himself in the ass but he pulled Fathia up, grabbing her other hand and helping her to stand. Bending to pick up the knife she had dropped her noticed through a tear in her pants that a rather large scar lanced down her right leg heading towards her foot. He didn't linger on the thought long as he handed her the knife and stalked off. Fathia sheathed her sword and followed him at a trot, unshaken by what could have just happened.

"Leave."

"No."

"Your funeral."

"Fine by me."

Fathia stopped in her tracks as Riddick did but he did not turn to face her. He stood in silence, unmoving, as did Fathia. They both felt the same thing; the same air vibration and that smell. That was a Merc smell. Before Fathia could move she was ensnared by a fast moving bolas that wrapped about her legs and brought her down like a rock. By instinct she turned and shoved her knife down into the ropes and twisted. With a few strong wrenches she was free, despite the cuts she had inflicted on herself. She'd live.

Looking around she found herself alone in the snow, her blood speckling the white surface as a cruel wind began to pick up. Inwardly and outwardly she shivered. She had been so occupied with freeing herself that she hadn't seen Riddick or the Mercs disappear. Damn. Fathia could still pick out the sound of someone lumbering around in the dark and she heard a faint curse as that someone stumbled over something. Picking herself up she crawled over into a dark little hole within the snow bank. She would be safe here…for now.

Riddick raced through the dark, visibly limping from a net spike that had pierced through his leg. He didn't have time to worry about that girl and her Merc friends. She worked for them, this was her doing! Suddenly turning a corner Riddick slid into the shadows, waiting for his assailants to pass by. Just as the footsteps neared they slowed into a cat-like walk. Oh ho, they were experienced. They defiantly worked for that little bitch. Just as the step was within reach Riddick whirled around and caught the Merc in the neck, dropping him like a sack of meat as the snow became tainted with his blood. The second one went down just as fast, followed by the third. This was too easy.

Wiping his blade off he backtracked, slowly developing a limp from the wound in his leg. That was gonna hurt in the morning. As he rounded a corner he was brought down by a familiar small form tackling him in the mid-section and knocking the wind out of him. He caught the sound of a gunshot and the even closer sound of flesh tearing. Fathia hauled herself up, blood staining her once camouflaged vest as it trickled out of a wound in her shoulder. "Lets go." Riddick heard her but he didn't move. What the hell was going on here?

"Lets go, I'm not losing my pay day to some asshole of a Merc!" So that was it. Riddick was up when Fathia grabbed his hand and lead him along a twisting path. She too was limping, but not as badly as him which was slowing her up. "Move you worthless piece of Furyan shit!" Anger practically radiated and oozed from every pore in her body as she hauled him along through the snow. Another shot rang out, this one barely missing his ear as it whizzed by.

Fathia made a sudden turn and released his hand, running across a small patch of open ground. At the other end she punched her hand threw a layer of snow and grabbed something. Twisting whatever it was obviously caused her great pain but it paid off. The backdoor of a ship shuttered open with a clang and she skittered inside, motioning for him to follow. Riddick saw the trap; get him to go with her so she could drug him and drop him off at the first slam that offered her enough money. Well, it was better than being here. Riddick crossed the threshold, nearly being caught again but another bullet before finding shelter in Fathia's ship. The door closed, and all was quiet.

* * *

The standings:

Fathia: 1

Riddick: 1

Mercs: 0


	7. I'm No Riddick

Thanks all for the reviews This is a short chapter and a much longer one will follow. So, don't despair, I'm not slacking off on that part.

* * *

With an all too familiar hum and rumble the lights flickered on along with a number of other devices and screens. Riddick lifted a hand to cover his eyes as his goggles had been knocked down when Fathia tackled him. Speaking of Fathia. She was seated in the control seat, checking through various statistics that would pop up on her screen every now and again as she threw switches and went over the basic take-off procedures. Riddick stepped up behind her seat, scanning over the screens and information he could find. According to her fuel gauge she didn't have enough to make it very far but according to the navigation system they had just enough to make it a few planets over. According to the screen they could make it to some planet named FX-12K, or, what he knew simply as the Storm Planet. They could lose them there. Hell, they could lose themselves there.

Riddick's attention was drawn away by a decorative dash topper, or at least that's what he thought it was. The little furry thing uncurled itself from a tight ball and stretched out languidly, little paws flexing. A cat. Of all things the little bitch had a cat. The cat meowed softly and hopped down from her perch onto the arm of Fathia's seat, rubbing up against the Merc's shoulder in greeting. "You might wanna sit down." Fathia muttered as she dropped her hand to the power switch at her side. Riddick took the hint and occupied the empty navigator's seat as Fathia pushed the gauge forward.

The little skiff she had had a lot of kick to it Riddick had to admit as the take of pressed him back into the seat. The cat remained in its spot at Fathia's side but a closer look would show that the little feline was clinging for dear life to the seat. As they left the atmosphere and headed onto their planned course Fathia sighed loudly and slumped in her seat, rubbing her temples. What the hell was she doing? This was not the fucking plan! Tika pawed at her arm, which was bleeding, not a huge gush, but enough to be noticeable. The little cat's claws dug into her arm and raked backwards, but she didn't really seem to notice.

"Where'd you get the scar?"

"Hmm?" Fathia looked up, blinking furiously.

"Where did you get the scar on your leg?" Riddick questioned again. She had been quite casual with him about important questions; time for a little bit of payback. Fathia quirked a confused look at him wondering what in hell he was talking about. Scar? What sca-oh. At the moment she caught sight of the rip in her pants, revealing the scar on her leg. A plan flickered through her mind as she rubbed the shoulder that still had a bullet lodged in it.

"I'll tell you if you do one thing for me."

"Sounds reasonable. What is this 'one thing'?"

"I'm not flexible enough to reach the bullet in my shoulder. You get that out and I'll tell you want to know."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Deal."

Fathia sat with her back to Riddick as he dug about in the flesh of her shoulder for the bullet implanted there. Luckily her vest had been thick enough to stop the brunt of the force and that thing hadn't shattered bone or hit anything really vital. It just hurt like a bitch! Not that she'd let him know that she was in pain. No emotions for the enemy.

"I got the scar from my first father, when I was very young."

"You're first father? How old are you again?"

"I've told everyone I'm nineteen."

"But…"

"I'm really twenty-five. If people think you're young then they'll under estimate you which leaves plenty of room open for failure."

"Seems like you accept failure pretty easily."

"It's a part of life."

The unmistakable clink of metal hitting metal and the release of pressure in Fathia's shoulder greeted her senses. Taking the lead from there Fathia pulled off her shirt caring little about Riddick's prying gaze. Besides, she was wearing a tank top, it wasn't like she was prancing around naked. Grabbing up the roll of gauze and a pad of the same material she began the tedious process of bandaging herself up. A little difficult to do one handed but it wasn't like she hadn't done this before.

"My first father was a married Merc-"

"Bad choice."

"I know. He and my "mom" got in a fight and she used ten year-old me as a body shield when my father came at her with a knife. Cut me here, here, and here."

Fathia placed a fist just below her left collarbone, drew it diagonally down to her right hip and down to her ankle.

"My brother, thank God for him, was able to get me to a doctor and patched me up. His friend, my second father, agreed to take me in once I was well enough to support myself. So when I turned twelve I went to live wit him."

Here Fathia paused the tie the bandage to herself and cut the edge with her teeth. Spitting out the little bit of gauze she tested her maneuverability. Satisfied with what little she could do she pulled her torn vest back on. Truth was, she was pretty self conscious about her body, her scar most of all.

"What's your real name?" Riddick questioned softly. She had said she'd answer anything and from what he could judge about this girl she'd stay true to her word. Fathia glanced over her shoulder as she punched in a few choice coordinates to the ship's navigation deck. From what he could tell she didn't seem to have been much affected by the question but the look she gave him he could tell she was hiding something. Turning her seat around she sighed and gave her cat a little scratch behind the ears.

"Fathia is my middle name. My real name is Zasha Fathia Dea. The name Fathia Z. Riddick was what my Merc counterpart called me. They wanted to pass me off with the name so I could have some sort of fear attached to it. Truth, I am one hundred percent Furyan blood, but I'm no Riddick."


	8. Muse Me Not

Riddick sat silently at the few back seats the small ship housed. One leg was propped over the other and placed across his knees was a book of hand drawn maps and sketches of the indigenous creatures along with various field notes and quickly penned observations in a scrawling script. One particular sketch caught his attention; it was only partial but incredibly familiar. A large canine bust was pictured, a thick collar around the beast's neck complete with dragging chain. The pure feral nature in the beast's eyes was most appealing about the sketch; Riddick knew that look well. He had seen it many, many times before.

"Hellhound," Zasha spoke as she leaned over his shoulder. "Or at least that's what we called them. Not really canine but very feline in fact, odd. That one was named…Thrash I think. Yeah, says so on his tag." Riddick zeroed in on the point that Zasha had indicated, seeing the lightly drawn nametag and number just beside the heavy chain. He hadn't spotted that before but it was hard to find, even more so for his eyes. Sifting through a few more pages he found a few that were quite interesting indeed.

For the first couple of pages intricate drawings of various weapons were shown. The notes were written in a completely different hand; this one was neater yet still equally hard to read at first glance. Knife belts and various hidden contraptions were the main focus but on the backs of two pages were more…heavy machinery. A harness designed to hold the weight of a heavy machine gun and its large amount of ammo were sketched out quite intricately including a half body sketch and specific belt lengths and widths, not to mention buckle design. On the next page was a simple drawing of a human torso, front and back, obviously male for the lack of particular areas. Drawn out in red pen were areas of great damage, namely the floating ribs, kidneys, various arteries, and one spot that was near the third lumbar down. Drawn out in blue ink were pressure points and counter points were written out in green.

The last few pages were far more medical than the last consisting of circulatory systems, an intricate drawing of the lungs with the impact of plaque and decay grimly drawn on the back. The last few pages contained descriptions in medical terms that even Riddick didn't know about how certain bodily functions could easily be controlled through various implants, more specifically the heart and spinal column. Where a girl would get this information was truly astounding much less understand what it all meant.

"The last few pages are mine, the rest belong to my father. They're from his touring days with the Galactic Reserves." Zasha answered his silent questions from a control board. Riddick had figured as much as he flipped back through the pages. There really wasn't much else to look at the really caught his interest. He could only be amused by the drawing of a flower for so long. His attention drifted to the various display screens above the console Zasha was working on. The way her seat and he were positioned hid him from her sight which was all the better.

The main console was blocked out mostly by her seat but Riddick could gather just as much information from the various other screens. One off to the left listed various ports of call and what seemed to be contacts at each one by the names and various other bits of information listed there. Above that was what appeared to be a general system map holding information about various systems and major planets and industries thereabouts. A small screen between them was a speedometer of some sort and it read out the general cruising speed of a ship of this particular size. Below was what appeared to be fuel levels marked in the common language of red equals bad. It was flashing the falling number every few seconds but Zasha seemed to be paying it no mind. Off to the right was something Riddick couldn't quick make out. It was showing the track of something and it wasn't their ship or the one following them. Apparently Zasha had tabs going on someone else.

Riddick stood and slowly walked towards the front of the ship, his boots landing heavily and echoing in the otherwise mostly silent ship. Leaning over the seat he looked down to be met by an identical gaze. Zasha eyed him for a moment before looking back to the controls. The destination reader read out a different planet than the one they had been going to before. Riddick knew that planet. It was a hotbed of underhanded gambling and unregulated pit fights. A perfect place for them to hide out. "Other tracker is the decoy I sent out on take off. It'll lead them away long enough for us to get in contact with a guy I know." Zasha spoke, reading Riddick's mind once more. Was he that easy to read or was it just a woman thing? And this whole misdirection bit, that was most definitely a woman thing.

Zasha somehow snuck her way out of the chair and when Riddick looked back she was pulling on a heavy coat that reached her knees and most obviously was not hers. Various patches and bars on it made it out as a standard issue reserve jacket. The sleeves were far too long for her but that didn't seem to bother her. Pulling the garment closely about her she returned to her seat, ignoring Riddick for the moment. One more scan over the console and she swung her seat around to the side as Riddick assumed his seat of to the side in the secondary navigator's position. Propping her feet up on the center divider between them she settled down into the coat.

"That makes you look like a child," Riddick commented, propping up his own feet as well. Compared to his feet hers were infantile, not that extreme but she'd have a hard time walking in his boots if she wore them. Zasha eyed him over the high collar, pulling it back to speak. "I know. But space is a cold and lonely place. It's nice to have some sort of comfort from someone that I know loves me." Riddick was taken aback by her comment but of course it didn't show on his carefully trained face. Out of what he read off of her in their previous encounters she didn't seem like the kind of person who would need comfort or freely use the word love in any context. "To him I'll always be a child."

"And you hope to make yourself look grown up by bringing me in? Kind of an extreme coming of age." Zasha smirked at his comment, gazing out into the vast darkness of space. She didn't answer or say anything for some time and Riddick found himself nodding off before she spoke again. "It's not for him." Riddick was about to question her further but she had buried her face once more in that heavy jacket and had apparently closed herself off for comment.

Riddick catnapped for a brief few hours and when he woke Zasha was still sound asleep. He was surprised that she even dared to sleep with him uncontrolled in the way he was and free to go about any business he wished. Perhaps this was a trap? Or maybe a ploy to gain his trust? Or maybe he was just reading too much into this and she was simply asleep because she knew he wouldn't do anything. Somehow she had managed to scrunch herself into the pilot's seat so that she was sleeping in a little ball. While the rest of her body was hidden her head and neck had been exposed so as not to overheat in the confines of her father's jacket. Riddick watched her face as she slept. He could learn a lot about a person just by watching them sleep and it had served him well more than once.

The semi-darkness of the cockpit was only illuminated by the hazy blue glow of the console and the soft red of the flashing fuel gauge. The way her body was positioned she was obviously very closed off and guarded with her knees drawn in close and arms folded tightly about her. That was obvious. Riddick pushed his goggles up, eyeing her exposed face. The one thing about blue light is that it illuminates all the little things people try to hide. There were lines on her face; worry lines on her brow and around the corners of her eyes. A tight jaw set and scrunched up eyes were obvious indicators to inner turmoil and pain but had Riddick not been quite as able at doing what he was doing she would have looked the contented sleeper.

Apparently having a bad dream Zasha rolled her shoulder as if trying to brush someone away and rolled over so that her face was hidden. This was most interesting to the Furyan man as he sat back in his seat. Another hour of watching yielded nothing more that he couldn't already surmise with and educated guess. A proximity alarm sounded with a soft alarm clock-esque beeping. Zasha awoke easily and didn't notice that Riddick was still watching her. Untangling herself from her seat she leaned forward and tapped a few buttons. "You'd better secure yourself, we're going in for a landing." She said in a conversational sort of way as she pulled on her own straps.


End file.
